Yesterday afternoon we all went to the local drop-in center. The center caters to children in need of a meal after school. For many of those kids, that meal of rice and beans or bread and chicken was the only meal they would receive that day. We awkwardly pushed plates around, washed dishes, and attempted to speak zulu words for ‘thank you’ and ‘hello’. By the second day, I was playing wall ball with a few of the younger children until I tried to throw the ball backwards and it landed on the roof. Myself and one boy went on an expedition to find the ball, but after ten minutes I promised myself to buy the kids a replacement. At another point I was dangerously swinging boys on a tire and chain swing set. As they jumped off mid-air, two other boys in their gray school pants and opened white button up shirts bearing their chest R.Kelly-style came running up to me. They stood next to me silently until one dared to ask the most unforgettable, unbelievable, amazing question, “…Are you Beyonce?” At first I was so taken aback I asked was “did one of the American girls tell you to ask me that?!” After the boys vehemently claimed that it was there own question, I happily swung them on the handmade swing until I grew tired. Finally, I set the kids up on my iphone to play Guinea Pig Getaway.